


Taken

by kabrox18



Series: Idiots in Space [4]
Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Ow the Edge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 15:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11084622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabrox18/pseuds/kabrox18





	Taken

 

Nera grabs him by the wrist, prying his arm out from its place against his torso.

“For a warlock, you sure are tough,” he jokes, voice wavering slightly. He doesn’t want her to see his mistakes, so he distracts her--or tries to. She doesn’t look up and unwinds the bandages around his palm, wound between his fingers like boxing tape.

“You cut yourself.” The statement is blunt, and she pulls the flesh open slightly, the pale of his always-gloved hand stark in the pinkish afternoon sunlight. “You cut yourself,” she repeats, and he gets the sense she’s going to say more. Sure enough, “with a Taken knife” leaves her as well. She looks up at him, and he laughs, a forced, odd little chuckle.

“Well, you know-”

“I do. I was curious why you managed to go in and out of Hive-heavy areas relatively unscathed. It’s because they smell Taken on you.” She sounds--blank. Unfeeling. She tugs open the wound, which is this uncanny shade of white-grey. “I must say, you had me fooled for what--three weeks? Four?” She turns her eyes up to him, cocking her head slightly. He stumbles over a few words, which come out as garbled nonsense. He coughs, though, and tries again.

“Four.”

“Clever bastard,” she murmurs, almost affectionate. She pats the wound, a long blackened slash across the concave part of his palm. “So, what was this knife? I’ve read all the information we have, and I know that the knife the Deep gives to Taken is unique depending on the type of creature it swallows up.”

“It was a shard of mirror.” Nera  _ hmms _ and returns the bandages to their place wrapped over his hand.

“Let me guess,” she says, amused, “So you won’t be alone. What’s your new trick? Splitting like a Psion? Creating a turret like an Acolyte?”

“No, and no. I can teleport and leave behind a shadow of myself.”

“Interesting.” Is all she says, letting go of his wrist. She meets his eyes through his visor--one had been greyed out from a long-forgotten injury, but now they both were that off-white. His skin had started to go shiny black, like an enveloping case of dry gangrene that ate him whole. Soon the white lower half and limbs would appear, and he’d be Taken.

“Since the Taken follow the same principles as the Hive,” she says, pulling him out of his thoughts, “you’d be, what, a Prince? You’ve killed enough, dictated your reality enough. You’ve stolen from them, so you’re a Kell in of yourself, and then of course--the Vex and Cabal have no respect for anyone but themselves. Taken Prince…” She trails off, and he frowns inwardly.

“I think I should go. Everyone is looking at me strangely.”

“Alright,” she says, airily. “Meet me someplace again soon.”


End file.
